


The Process of Insanity.

by Angstlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Relationship, I didn't want to retype that, M/M, i actually put a lot into this.. like.. emotion wise. And works hard on the tags, i dunno, ill just go now, larry stylinson - Freeform, not tag, notes!, vague plot with deep message
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angstlarry/pseuds/Angstlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' going crazy. Actually, maybe everyone else is and he's the only one with two feet on the ground.<br/>Harry's got a hidden side. Something that can leave dark imprints on people. Something he'd rather people didn't see.<br/>The point isn't the plot. The point is the emotion. The characters. The little tiny pieces that draw lines across the map and connect the reader to the story.<br/>So what if Louis' going crazy, at least you can see what's behind it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Process of Insanity.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imperfectwaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectwaves/gifts).



> Ok yeah, i've added quite a few references to songs and other stories and fan fics.  
> And yeah, the end isn't anything you'd think of.  
> But that's how life works. Twists and turns block your way and drive you crazy and in the end, all you remember are the big things. You don't know the small details. You don't know every word exchanged, but you do know how you felt, and words can present themselves through emotions.

**The process of insanity.** It’s a bit like the ticking of a clock. It goes by at a steady beat, ticking and tocking until it strikes twelve, marking the end of a day and the half-way point at the same time. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve hit; whether it’s the end or the beginning or some crazy mixed up in-between. Sometimes you know exactly when you’ve hit the end of the line. But either way, you never, _never_ , know when it’s coming and what it’s bringing with it.

The process of insanity. It’s my life.

I wake up. I get dressed. I go to work and make public appearances. I lie to the faces of everyone who adores me. I go home. I spend time with him. I love him. I crave him. I regret every second of it.

Like clockwork I go about my day, obeying the rules and turning around to break them a minute later. I don’t get closer to being noticed, but that’s the funny thing about the human mind; you think you are. You hear the creak of the floor boards and think it’s a ghost. You get called down to the principal’s office and think you’re in trouble for something you did years ago. Your mom uses your middle name and you say your final goodbyes. Humanity is built around fear, and that’s what I face every day.

I know I’m not changing. I know where the world stands. I can keep track of the ground under my feet. But sometimes I have to check. I have to look in the mirror to make sure I’m the same person. I have to look at a map to make sure we’re all still here. I have to take that one glace at my feet to make sure what I’m about to step on is earth and not an empty abyss.

You can call me crazy, but I guarantee that if you take one look at your life, you won’t see much difference. The human mind is a complex thing, no wonder we’re falling apart at the seams. The more stress we have from those imaginary dangers in our head, the faster we come undone. You can’t fix insanity, you live it. Some people more than others. I guess we’re all on our way to insanity, it’s just a matter of who’s brave enough to get there first.

My name is Louis Tomlinson. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m the only sane one in the room. I have the stress of a million eyes on me every day. To make things worse, I have a secret. My secret’s name is Harry.

The English meaning behind his name is house protector, which I find quite fitting. He tries and he tries to protect what we have. To protect the fragile dome of emotions that surround our secret. Our little alcove that we call home, the place where our hearts rest and our eyes connect and the little pinch of hope we get while we’re tumbling down the wrong side of the hill. Unfortunately, Harry’s not the best suited for a guard dog position.

***

In case I haven’t mentioned, I’m in a band. Not like, a band band, it’s a boy band. Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but we are quite the kick ass boy band. We’re called One Direction, perhaps you’ve heard of us? Well the other day was about the point I reached my stress limit, and we happened to be at an interview after one of our rehearsals.

***

“So boys, any secrets you’d like to share with our viewers?”

The words fell out of the interviewer’s mouth like the most rote thing I’d ever heard. There’s always something so mechanical about the people I meet anymore. The fans scream and say I love you. The interviewers question us and try to shine light on the skeletons in our closets. Even the boys are a bit mechanical, having been living with me for the last two months on tour.

My only refuge from the industrial jungle of my social life is Harry. He’s always talking to me as if I were the most interesting thing in the world, but he still has a comforting familiarity to him, kind of like how sleeping in your old bed is better than on the fanciest mattress out there.

“No, I think the fans pretty much know everything we’ve got to say,” Liam spoke, giving a little shrug for emphasis.

I haven’t always been the fondest of Liam. He’s quite the homophobic fellow and, although he doesn’t mean to, he makes it well known. Well, at least, that’s how I take it. Back in the XFactor days, Liam had thought something was happening between Harry and I, but we just had petty crushes on each other. I guess if we would have been dating back then, we would have come clean when he asked us, but there was too much built on the lie now.

Nevertheless, I was glad Liam answered that one. Considering the shitty mood I was in, I probably would have come out right there. The interview rolled to a stop and we all dismounted our facades of smiles and jokes as we piled into our car.

There was something about the air of the car, some unspoken tension, and I was pretty sure I was the source of it. I had been under so much stress lately and the boys had taken notice. Harry was affected most of all.

He sat silent next to me, looking down at his hands like a puppy who had done something wrong. Every moment or two he would look up and try to meet my eyes, but I wasn’t in the mood.

I honestly wasn’t in the mood for anything. I hadn’t been in my right mind to deal with the interviewer, and I wasn’t about ready to act happy for my boyfriend. All my clandestine ways of dealing had been shoved under the table about the time I read that tweet.

_It had been a normal day of reading fans’ tweets and hate tweets and smiling at both of them. Typically, the kind of people who took the time to hate on my band didn’t bother me. They just kinda seemed like they were wasting everyone’s time, especially their own._

_Then I came about a tweet that really bothered me. I wasn’t sure what it was, maybe it was the fact that their username was “@Hazzasgirl3480”, or maybe it was that, after I looked over all of their twitter, I realized they liked the entire band, except for me._

“Dont get me wrong I love 1D but @Louis_Tomlinson is trying to ruin Harry, and that kinda spoils the music. He should just quit.”

_After reading over the tweet more times that I would like to admit, I realized that it had some truth in it. I was ruining Harry, in a way. He could be so much more amazing if I wasn’t here weighing him down and causing all of our haters to call him gay._

_Here I was, sitting on the couch in the hotel room Harry and I shared, grumbling over a tweet from some 12 year old girl who was in love with my boyfriend. Yet I still couldn’t shake the feeling of massive guilt weighing down on my shoulders. This was all my fault. All these people that made Harry cry when all the cameras were gone, maybe they would go away if I, if I ended it between us._

_The retched thought churned my stomach, but had a convoluted appeal to it. The more I considered it, the more I saw the ways it would help. With us farther apart, not only would it help Harry, but the whole band would have a better rep. We would get so much less hate and maybe, just maybe, I hoped it would cheer everyone up, even if it tore me apart inside._

After the stiff car ride back to our hotel, Harry had offered to go down to the coffee shop in the lobby of the building and get us both a cuppa. As he left, my mind drifted back to the thoughts I was having before. Those awful thoughts I couldn’t stand that had all started from a damn tweet from a bleeding 12 year old girl. Leave it to me to get caught up in the juvenile opinions of uneducated youth.

“Hey Lou, that queue was awful.” Harry padded back into the room in sock clad feet, holding two steaming paper mugs with blue swirls printed on the outside. He always wore that goofy grin on his face, the kind of smile that framed a person’s face perfectly, brightening their eyes and lifting the spirits of everyone in the room.

I had the kind of smile that could either be real or fake, and there was no telling which it was. I just looked at him for a moment, savoring his smile, perhaps for the last time in a long time. The way it traveled to his eyes and brightened his face, exposing those lovely dimples. It took a lot of strength to break my gaze away from his beautiful appearance and get back on track with breaking his heart.

“Hey Haz,” I said dully, shutting my laptop and leaning back into the hard, leather couch cushion. I gently took my cup from his hands as he came over and settled down next to me, curling his feet under him and sipping from his tea. He looked at me with those big green eyes, and expectant expression crossing over them.

“What?”

“You look sad. What’s wrong?” He asked, tilting his head the slightest bit, causing my gut to twist even more with enough guilt to kill me. I hated what I was doing. I hated what I was about to do. I hated everything that could come of it. I hated myself.

“I-” my voice broke, probably not giving Harry the best vibe. But, as always, he knew I needed time to talk about serious things. He sat patiently and waiting for me to continue, not pressuring me at all and just being that genuinely good person that he was. This was going to be harder than I thought. I knew I just had to rip the bandage off, and I couldn’t have him try to help me only to go and break his heart a moment later. It was now or never.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice shook a bit, as if he were trying to believe what had already snaked its way into his mind. He turned to face me fully and set his mug down, looking at me with those big, soft green eyes…

I looked away as harshly as I could, and, although it probably looked extremely comical, I heard Harry suck in a breath. “Us. I can’t do us. It’s... too much.” My life is literally a soap opera.

Silence. Not what I expected, but what I probably should have seen coming. Harry wasn’t a very confrontational person.

“What,” He whispered, not tearing his gaze away from mine. I had to look down from the hurt shining through his tear filled eyes. “W-Why? D-id I do something w-wrong?”

I could see his lip start to quiver out of the corner of my eye. He was making this so hard, and I couldn’t bear to see him like that. I loved him more than anything else, but I had to do this, “It’s for your own good, Harry,” I whispered, my voice cracking on the last word.

I saw something flare up behind his wall of tears. He gripped the edge of the couch, looking strait past me, his gaze boring into the wall. “Louis, you need to stop treating me like a fucking glass doll. I’m grown up. I don’t need you to protect me, and this sure as hell is not for my own good.”

“No, it is. I can’t keep putting you through this. I just want you to-”

“Well I’m not your fucking responsibility! I made my own decisions and I got myself here. It wasn’t you, it was me. If I fucking want out, I’ll get out. I don’t need you decide what I can handle and what I can’t.” Harry was up now, crossing the room and placing his head against the wall. Suddenly, he slammed in fist into it, making me jump and springing loose a tear from my eye.

“Haz, this entire thing, me being with you, I can tell it’s hurting you. I love you, but… I can’t keep doing this to you.” I spoke, trying to keep my voice calm and even in an effort to control Harry’s out-of-character temper.

“Then why the hell don’t you leave already, if it’s so damn good for me?” Harry’s voice was so bitter. I had never seen him like this. His eyes were so dark I almost couldn’t make out any color, and for the first time in my life, I was scared of him. I could see him moving over towards, his fist clenching at his side. I had to get out of there.

I stood up abruptly, stumbling out of the room and into the hall. I thought I saw Harry move to stop me, but I was already gone. I couldn’t go outside and risk being seen like this by fans. I couldn’t even go to the lobby. The whole place was crawling with people who wanted to exploit me. That’s what my life was, a job where I work for people who exploited me so I could be exploited by cameras and shopping centers. What a life.

***

Purblind by tears, I jogged over to Zayn’s room. I had always trusted him, so he was the best person I go to. He could help, I knew he could. Ever since I had first figured out I was… you know… I went to Zayn for help. He had always been there and I knew it was right to go to him.

Much to my dismay, Liam was over at Zayn’s room as well, and he opened to door to find me, hair disheveled and tears starting to spill onto my cheek, trembling pathetically in the hall, wearing my boxers and one of Harry’s shirts. Honestly, at that moment, I would have accepted a hug from Liam, but I knew I had to get to Zayn.

“Oh my god Lou what happened? Are you ok? Zayn come here!” I pushed past Liam, not caring about how he reacted. I wasn’t here to be bothered by him. I needed Zayn.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion. Zayn ran to the door and pulled me into him, trying to comfort me as I sobbed into his chest. I felt his long fingers running over the knobs of my spine, his other hand playing with my hair in the way only he and Harry knew how. He was whispering soothing words into my ear, the words’ meanings melted into my sobs as I gripped the back of his shirt. My mind kept flashing back to the look in Harry’s eyes every time I closed my own, and with it came continuous rows of sobs.

***

Once I had settled down, Zayn had lead me into his bedroom and shut the door behind us, his eyes searching mine for clues as to what happened. I assumed he had already put it together, but I relayed it to him anyway, leaving out the part of me breaking up with Harry and instead saying we had a “disagreement”. I didn’t need Zayn knowing that I used to be dating his best friend.

As I spoke, I could feel the emotions slipping through the cracks in my mind, triggering vivid images of the encounter as I retold them to my company. A pair of almost black eyes kept flashing behind my own, telling me to leave, bringing me to wonder if Harry had ever acted like that before. He had always been so sweet, so soft and caring. I’d never imagined he would lash out like that. I could _see_ him hurting me, hitting me, even though it hadn’t happened. I could imagine exactly what it would be like, just from that look he gave me.

“Lou,” Zayn spoke softly, rubbing my back and wearing an expression of disbelief, “I just don’t… I never imagined Harry would act like that.” He paused for a moment, then stood up and walked towards the door. Part of me wanted to call out, telling him not to get Harry, telling him to just stay here and protect me. It was the same part of me that could feel the bruise forming from the hit that I never got.

I heard him exchange quiet words with a very worried sounding Liam, and then the latter entered the room, his gaze falling all over me with concern.

“What’s Zayn doing?” My voice shook as I asked the question, mostly because I already knew the answer.

“He’s going to get Harry. He said that you two had an argument, but he didn’t say about what… What happened over there, Louis?” It was so odd, Liam looked genuinely concerned. For some reason, I felt like I could tell him everything, even the parts that I hadn’t told Zayn. So I did. Must have been my shock taking control, but I suddenly felt like I could trust him with everything.

After I had spilled everything, Liam just sat back and stared, obviously very surprised by this. I mean, none of the other boys were told, but Zayn picked up on a lot, and Nialler can spot a couple from a mile away. It must have something to do with his Irish blood.

“So, this whole time, you and Harry…”

“Until now, yeah. Yeah, I guess we have.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell us?” Liam crossed his legs as he sat next to me on the bed. He had sat down somewhere in the middle of the whole ‘How Harry and I fell in love’ thing. I didn’t blame him – it was quite an epic “star crossed lovers” tale.

“I guess we just didn’t want you guys to, like, see us differently.” Especially Liam, considering what a homophobic bastard he was. Although I was surprised how okay he was with the fact that I had been secretly dating one of his best mates for three years. Weird, huh?

“Louis, you need to know that none of us would feel that way. We all love you two, and nothing would ever change that-”

Suddenly, Niall burst into the room shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Goddamn it. Fuck!”

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is Harry ok?” I jumped up from the bed, running over to Niall for the answers he wasn’t giving me fast enough. A million scenarios flashed through my head, all of which, I can assure you, were anything but pleasant.

Niall looked up at my eyes and shook his head. “Liam, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“What… Niall! What the hell happened?” I grabbed his arm as he moved to turn away, my grip stronger than I’d ever recalled it to be, boundless on my friend’s sleeve. I looked up to him with pleading eyes, willing him to tell me what had happened. “Niall! What’s wrong? Is he hurt? Hell this is all my fault I should have never…” I shook my head and released his arm, retiring to the bed as I fought off tears.

I could tell Niall was about to ask what I meant, but surprisingly, Liam waved him off. Niall spoke in a low tone, letting out a deep sigh before speaking, “Harry… he… we need to go to the hospital. Now.”

I felt my heart contract. I felt wild panic fly through my body, bringing trembles with it. I felt the whole world come crashing down upon my shoulders. I felt terrified. And most of all, I felt responsible.

I stood up instantly, barely putting on my shoes before I had run out the door. I needed to know what happened, but that could wait until we were on our way.

***

Every movement was nauseating. The blur of a car whizzing past like a hive of bees; swirling around my head and stinging my entire body. The commotion of everyone around me was fueling the pounding in my head, sending me spinning farther and farther down in a whirlwind of disbelief and guilt. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t I couldn’t do anything but feel burning, fiery guilt eating away at me. Someone said my name. Touched my shoulder. Rubbed my back. Asked me if I was ok. Why would they ask? Why?

Questions dropped through my head space, breaking up conscious thoughts and normal abilities and rendering me unable to do anything. Say anything. I could hear them discussing what had happened. Niall had seen Zayn walking towards mine and Harry’s room. They had gone in together, but upon finding Harry crying on the floor with blooding spilling out of his wrist, Zayn called an ambulance while Niall called Paul, and then the Irish boy left to go get us. It was simple story, retold as simply as it could be with fragile little me in the car. But I could feel how much of the story was left out. Not necessarily in the plot, no, a story’s core is not in its plot, it’s in its characters. And right then, my main character was dropping from my story, falling off the pages and into forgotten chapters in past books. I wasn’t so sure I would be able to find him again.

***

Arriving at the hospital was like walking into a dark room with the door labeled “your worst nightmare starts here”. The cold antiseptic scent washed over me as I stepped through the threshold. My first instinct was to bolt strait to Harry but I knew I had to wait. I had to find out how he was doing, if he was… alive.

The body guards spoke to the lady at reception, telling her we were here to see Harry. She told us only one was allowed to see him, and all eyes turned to me. I practically bolted. “What room is he in?” I asked quietly, speaking for the first time since we had gotten in the car.

“317,” she said softly, almost as if she could see the story in my eyes.

I barely muttered my thanks before I was sprinting down the corridor towards the elevator. The ride up was torture. It felt as if time was running out and there was nothing I could do to catch it.

Floor one. My breath left my lungs. Floor two. I felt my knee start to shake. Floor three. The little dingy thing went off and suddenly I found myself barely able to move. I shuffled down the hallway, that room moving closer and closer, growing in my tunneled vision until it was all I could see. It engulfed my mind completely until I was practically against the door, gasping for breath.

I brought my fist to the door, knocking twice and waiting for a muted “come in” from inside. I slowly turned the door knob, peeking my head around the corner to find Harry laying with his back facing the door.

“Hey,” I choked out, moving across the room and stopping when I was about 3 feet away. I saw his body tense at the sound of my voice. He shifted his arm so I couldn’t see it and turned to face me.

“Hi.” His voice was raspy, and after a moment of silence, he shifted his arm back into view and met my eyes with his own watery ones, staring deep into me, telling everything he wasn’t ready to speak about yet. “Hi,” he repeated.

Now I’d tell you all about the conversation we had and the promises we made and the kisses we shared, but that’s not the point. This moment right here. Where he turns around to face me.

This was a defining moment in our lives. Because love isn’t about you, it’s about the people you share it with. It’s about turning around and facing them and letting go enough to bring them back. It’s about unlocking your heart and allowing their entrance, even if you don’t share words.

It was at this very moment that I knew I was wrong in thinking I was bringing him down. Because if someone really loves you, all you can do is lift them up. And Harry? He was dancing in the clouds around me. And _that_ is all that matters. All that matters is that Harry is happy. That our love is true and strong. That we are real and right and no one can tell us otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> (I hope you enjoyed this!)  
> So lets recap.  
> Yeah yeah, words can come from emotions, memories only hold so much.  
> But lets focus on love.  
> Love. It's a complex thing.  
> I won't tell you I even begin understand it, but I will tell you this.  
> In our society, love is a material. You love someone because they make you happy and fluffy inside, and once you suck every last drop out of them that you can get, you don't love them anymore.  
> Love in real life, it's about the other person. It's about making them feel amazing, no matter the cost.  
> "He was dancing in the clouds around me."  
> Take this quote, for example. I love this because of how accurately it represents both Love and Harry and Louis' relationship. Louis recognizes that Harry feeds off of Louis. He recognizes that the best he can do for the one who loves him, is simply to love him back. Louis might be checking his steps and plating him self firmly on the earth, but Harry is up in the clouds. Louis starts out thinking that's bad, but this is a little perally manufactured term I like to call "Character express-development".  
> No build-up as far as the reader can see. One second Louis is grounded, and the next recognizes such a broader horizon.  
> You can take this two ways.  
> One: They talked. They talked and talked and Harry explained to him what obviously was going on (even though I didn't talk about it in the story). Harry is unstable. It wasn't just lashing out or hurting himself. There were clues throughout. Louis talking about Harry picking up on his stressed state, not once, but twice. Louis talking about Harry crying after all the cameras had left. Louis then realized that, for some people, letting go is better. Living up in the clouds is better than anything Harry could find on earth, and the only thing keep him down was Louis insisting he should stay.  
> Two: Louis had an idea and it was developing. An idea that maybe he was too literal. That he was too tight ass and just needed to relax. This just finally managed to convince him. This misjudgment right here.  
> You can take it either way, because you're the reader. It's your job to interpret the story and take it apart, scrutinize every sentence and spelling error.  
> Please, please tear it apart. Laugh at my mistakes. Ponder my messages and morals. It'd be my honor, because honestly, living up in the clouds is where I want to be, and making people happy is how I'll get there.


End file.
